Just In Case

“We are who we are” you used to say, as though we were only innocent bystanders. As though we couldn’t help what we’d become. I don’t think it’s enough of a reason and even less of an excuse. I prefer to use ‘what we’ve been through made us who we are today’, though that’s hardly any better. It gives the past too much weight. 

I know I should keep my distance and let time do its thing, but a part of me still wants you to know I’m not the same anymore. Just in case.

I chopped my hair off (well, most of it), and dyed it. I moved out of my old apartment eight months ago, you know. You don’t even know my new address. Sometimes I imagine you driving up to my place in the middle of the night with chocolate or flowers or nothing at all and then I remember that you wouldn’t even know where to go. If you rang the bell, a stranger would open the door. And who knows, maybe you’d fall in love with them instead. Maybe they could love you better.

You could try to call me at work, but I quit my job. You used to say you could see how unhappy I was at that place and you were right, but somehow I could only pluck up the courage to do something about it when you were gone. Now I can’t even tell you in person. For some reason I changed a lot of things that reminded me of you, but still did not manage to cut you out of my life entirely. Unconsciously I think I’m still trying to hold on to pieces of you. Just in case.

It’d be unfair to walk back into your life just because I’m struggling. I don’t want to drag you back into my mess. But... in case you’re looking for some familiarity. In case you ever wonder what I’m up to. In case you find some long-forgotten photo of us at the bottom of your drawer and you want to see my face again - I’m here. Even if you don’t know where ‘here’ is, I’m sure you’ll find a way to contact me. In case you miss me.